


Monsters

by kuking



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Small Town, Fantasy, Gen, I'll update tags as I go along, I'm Sorry, Mystery, no one comes out unscathed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-25 23:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16207715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuking/pseuds/kuking
Summary: Jaebum thinks that spending his summer vacation in the middle of the Canadian nowhere was going to be a smothering pile of hot disappointment. But between living in a small town built on dirty, little secrets and stumbling into the life of a boy who was the keeper of those very secrets, well, Jaebum can’t say he would be bored anymore. Unfortunately.





	Monsters

**Author's Note:**

> I'd rather read fics than write them but here it is. Here you are. Here we are. I don't have a beta so buckle up kids. 
> 
> This is my own rendition of, if JB was farmer. But he really isn't. And Jinyoung is Jinyoung. But he really isn't.
> 
> Enjoy ya fools!

Surely thoughts of a perfect murder may have been tip toed upon once or perhaps a handful of times in the minds of the sane and the fully functioning sociopaths.

A forgotten farming community that was a mere dot in the Canadian nowhere could be the ideal location.

And why would it not be when the nights sounded like death. The kind of death that choked the pleading shrills of witches burnt at crosses and whiffed out the last match of God forsaken prisoners.

It was unbearable for the first few nights and Jaebeom often complained to his mother about the shrieking prairie winds that shook their rickety estate. Mrs. Im merely told him that the bare trees, and the weak roof were the causes of Jaebeom's nightly demise. His father often added in that it was the sign the local wildlife was thriving again. Surely that was a good sign. Jaebeom never failed to roll his eyes after their conversations. What does mother nature being loud for no reason and a thriving animal population got to do with Jaebeom.

So maybe fantastical murders and minutely detailed assassinations weren’t brewing in the background of the sleepy town. But for the teen, the lost of a good night’s sleep was on the same planes of tragedy. Well, of course, cracking his iPhone’s screen on the first day he stepped into Flaxcombe topped everything else. But stolen sleep came very close.

Jaebeom’s daily complaints were dispelled like a ripple with a light gurgle from Youngjae. The sweet toddler had his arms outstretched, his wiggling fingers eager for his older brother. Jaebeom collected him into his arms with a soft peck on his cherry, round cheeks.

I guess it was alright, Jaebeom thought as he twirled around lightly. A bubble of laughter from the toddler soften the older boy’s usual tight features. For as much Jaebeom complained, none of his other family members heard the grueling winds. Jaebeom was glad it didn't bother Youngjae and it was nothing his early 2000s R&B playlist couldn't fix.

Youngjae's tiny body shook and convulsed in his arms, falling into a violent fit of wet coughs and heaves. Their mother beelined towards them with a quick click of her loafers, worry etched into her graceful features, carrying the toddler back to his room.

Their father who had been resting in the salon, hastily rose with a loud screech of his wooden chair and followed Mrs. Im into the far room.

Youngjae's bronchitis had developed and took a turn for the worse earlier that year. At their wits’ ends, Mr. and Mrs. Im decided to vacation to their old farm out far east to the digress of Jaebeom's juvenile distress.

The change in scenery had forced Jaebeom to leave his oversized Thrasher hoodies and heavy jewelry untouched in his suitcase. Opting for his soft plain tees and basketball shorts, which filled in the vintage drawers in his homely bedroom. His mother surely couldn't talk him out of his bucket hats now, with the sun pounding down day in and day out. And for that, Jaebeom decided it was worth the trip out to nowhere-ville, just south of nothing interesting and adjacent to wheat field #24.

Otherwise Jaebeom’s days past without a hitch. Boringly so.

The landscape was but a scatter of foliage and the rest a sea of yellow wheat, bending to the warm summer breeze. Rolling, billowing clouds above and golden living skies of fields below.

It was jarring at first.

Jaebeom had learned to live in, and love, the suffocating, bustling city that was Vancouver. Not a single moment was lent to silence. And now Jaebeom’s own thoughts were but a mumble in the empty and barren acre. His parents took to casual care of their manor, his younger brother barely leaving the perimeters which often left Jaebeom to his own devices. The only other lonely souls were several miles away, even then they were an old but horribly sweet couple that ranched a small herd of cattle. Jaebeom’s visits to them were infrequent, it was either sending them his parent’s famous rice cakes or requesting the old fashion cup of sugar. If there was anyone his age living nearby surely they must be the community’s best kept secret as Jaebeom took to making acquaintances with the local grandparents, stray cats, and abandoned dirt paths.

Jaebeom wasted his time away sleeping in fields and sitting in trees waiting for nothing to happen. The teen had perfected the art of excuses and sudden disappearances every time his parents warmed up their lectures about college applications. Jaebeom’s trusty partner in crime was his Ricoh camera. Rather than thinking about the near future, Jaebeom thought about the rusty railroad tracks, the sunset, dirty little ponds, of decaying, old fences that bounded nothing and everything, and captured them on film. Sometimes when their mother allowed them to, he would take Youngjae on a short walk hand in hand around their father's prized vegetable garden. Late afternoons were spent going through his stack of paperback novels or visiting the small town a couple miles walk away from their acre. Between the miners who came in every few days for a drink at their local bar or Youngjae’s coughing fits, Jaebeom's days went through like clockwork, painfully waiting for summer to end.

It was the beginning of August that Jaebeom faced the first wrench in his well-worn but clockwork of a routine. If he had known that trouble would come in a strange package that was Junior, maybe Jaebeom wouldn’t had wished for more distractions that summer. Maybe Jaebeom would had wished for anything but Junior. Maybe. 

Just maybe.

The eldest son of the Ims had earlier trekked out while the sun had passed its high. His bucket hat shoved down low on his head, his eyes watching the soft clouds in the deep blue skies. He swung the small, square cooler in his hands back and forth.

He had went out for his frequent walks to the quaint co-op store to pick up his family's necessities. Unfortunately, Mr. Smith was out for the day but knowing his customers, he left his packages with the diner down the spider cracked cement road. Jaebeom popped his head into the front door with a jingle of a bell.

Mrs. Bhuwakul was as always propped against the counter, brewing a fresh pot of coffee. Jaebeom knew that the coffee would be later poured out untouched 15 minutes later. But she would always have a good cuppa ready for anyone who walked into her front door. She sang out a greeting and beckoned the teen into her diner. Wiping her hands on her checkered apron she dashed into the kitchen.

The older woman handed Jaebeom a chilled parcel. On top of the packaging, Ims were scrawled in large, goofy lettering that was Mr. Smith's handwriting.

“Oh yes, before I forget. Mr. Smith wanted to you give your parents several packets of these cabbage seeds. The came in from the shipment this morning.”

Puzzled Jaebeom looked at the older woman with a slight furrow of his eyebrows, “my dad never told me he ordered these though.”

“Well he didn’t. But Mr. Smith knows that you’ll end up buying them by the end of week so.” With a wink, Mrs. Bhuwakul tucks the packets into Jaebeom’s hands.

Jaebeom throws the packet into the cooler and looks up with tentative eyes, “Mrs. Bhuwakul, do you think my parents miss farming?”

If the growth of their personal gardens at their acre and their home back in Vancouver revealed the lingering attachment of their previous lives, Jaebeom stayed quiet.

“Dear, people miss the things they necessarily may not need or want.”

“Even despite themselves?”

“Indeed. And sometimes even at the expense of themselves.”

Mrs. Bhuwakul handed Jaebeom an orange popsicle and a small pat on her cheek, sending him off with a treat and some thoughts to ponder on for his way back home.

Jaebeom walked along a gravel path that ran along their town’s highway, soaking in the view of the deep blue-sky watering into a pale purple, the sun slowly making its way down for a night’s sleep. Jaebeom hummed a nameless tune, suckling on the popsicle stick that he had long finished, his cooler tucked under his arm.

As he turned a corner, staying close to a peeling fence, he heard a cry. It was as slight as a leaf turning over, but he could recognize it even if he was five feet underground, dead, and buried.

It was the shrieking wind that haunted his sleeps freezing Jaebeom in his spot. Unconsciously Jaebeom rubbed his sweating palms on his jeans. Late summer’s humidity was the least of his concerns as chills threaded along the teen’s spine.

And then he heard a choked cry that sounded too close to Youngjae’s which broke Jaebeom out of his paralyzed state.

Jogging past the huffing oil rigs, Jaebeom slowed down coming upon a group of men. They were kicking at something with loud thuds and sickly crunches. Jaebeom audibly gasped. The shaking lump on the ground was a figure of a person, of a child.

“Hey!” Jaebeom rushed towards the group, “Hey you fuckers!”

One of the men took a glance behind his shoulder at Jaebeom and started pulling at his accomplices’ arms. Jaebeom chucked his blue cooler at the offenders but the box dropped dreadfully short. They left the child on the ground and rushed into their black and white rickety truck and sped off, dirt clouds forming in their wake.

When Jaebeom approached the other child, the latter was trembling in a fetal position. Their clothes were ripped and covered in dirt. Their hair was shaggy and matted.

“Hey...uh, are you alright?” Jaebeom got onto his knees, reaching out to the younger kid. The kid didn't reply. Jaebeom reached out, a slight brush on their skinny shoulder. Suddenly the child flinched away, they took a spooked glance at Jaebeom with large round eyes wet with tears and a quiver to their bloody, splitted lips. They weren't a child at all. Or rather he wasn't a child but someone who looked around Jaebeom's age. Albeit scrawnier and thinner. More forgotten. Before Jaebeom could repeat himself, the boy took off.

Jaebeom clambered onto his feet and tried to chase the boy but he gradually disappeared into the waves of wheat. Jaebeom went on his toes, peering over the field, hoping to catch a glimpse. But from west to east and back, there wasn’t a sign of the other boy. With a loud heave Jaebeom waded back, he often easily got lost in the wheat if he wasn’t careful.  
How could the guy run off like that, with fresh injuries like those?

And who were those men anyway?

Frustrated Jaebeom covered his face with his hands. He could feel the incoming wave of hot anger. He hated how fast his temper could overcome him. He hated how long it took for the anger to ebb. Finally catching himself, he took a deep breath and counted himself down. When Jaebeom finally felt his heart slowing down he dropped his hands from his face. He hobbled towards the fallen cooler and picked it up with a huff. With the sunset long forgotten, Jaebeom briskly made his way back home.

 

Home is where the heart is. Or so the saying goes. Whatever lingering negative thoughts Jaebeom couldn’t dispel during his hurried trek home was pushed aside with Youngjae’s sweet giggles and a whiff of his parents’ home cooking.

Over the clanking of dishes and the hushed conversations between his parents at the dinner table, Jaebeom piped up.

“Mom, Dad...I was wondering,”

“Yes dear?” Mrs. Im, looked at her oldest, cutting the conversation with her husband abruptly. 

“Are there any other kids my age that live around here?” Jaebeom fiddled with his napkin underneath the table. Youngjae gurgled beside him.

Jaebeom’s father hummed thoughtfully, “well, Jackson and Mark come around once in awhile don’t they?”

“Ugh, Dad, they’re like, 25. They’re so old.”

Mr. Im let out a hearty laugh as his mother giggled behind a hand, “does that mean we’re basically fossils?”

Jaebeom rolled his eyes, “you know what I mean Dad.”

Mr. Im scooped a mouthful of stew into his mouth and pondered, “I don’t think there is anyone your age around here.”

Jaebeom pushed around the piece of potato on his plate around, deep in thought.

“I thought we went over this when we first moved in?” Mrs. Im began, as she wiped a napkin over Youngjae’s messy cheeks, “did something come up dear?”

Jaebeom finally popped the potato into his mouth. His mother was naturally inquisitive and clever, but a terrible worrier. If he even mentioned what had happened today, would Jaebeom be locked up in their estate just like his younger brother? Jaebeom wasn’t going to risk it. Besides, he can take care of himself. Right?

Shaking his head, Jaebeom hastily replied, “nah I’m just really bored.”

“Why don’t you start on your summer homework?”

“You also haven’t looked through the university brochures I brought. You should start considering your post-secondary school dear.”

“Ugh, never mind.”

“You know Jaebeom, you’re starting your senior year and-“ His father never finished the sentence because with a chirpy squeal Youngjae started hitting his food with his hands. His mother rushed to take away the plate. Mr. Im chortled on the side, immediately forgetting about their conversation with their eldest son.

Jaebeom mauled over his stew. They’ve been here for two months, and it was the first he even saw of the other teen. Who were the men at the scene anyway? It was obviously no one from town. No one had a speck of a mean streak in them, at least anyone Jaebeom has met. Maybe he won’t see them again. Maybe he won’t see the other kid again. Out of sight out of mind.

Jaebeom kept the thought locked away. Locked, but loaded. The ghoulish howls while he tossed and turned in bed were but a dreadful distraction he truly did not need that night.

His parents were fighting again.

It was okay. It was normal.

Being landlocked with only the company of themselves could easily tick anyone off. His parent’s furious, hushed squabbles increased throughout the summer weeks. Jaebeom knew his parents hated to fight in front of their children. So he made sure to pointedly ignore and pretend he didn’t know anything. Clueless and ignorant. The ideal teenager.

Running away from problems Jaebeom couldn’t solve and hiding from the world were all part of his daily routine. Rounding around the rotting fences, the oil rigs in the distance came to view. Jaebeom’s steps faltered, feeling unsettled, his stomach warmed in a way that warned of an impending stomach ache. Ever since the incident Jaebeom hadn’t gone near the oil rigs, his guilty conscience and weak stomach wouldn't allow it. 

Straying off from the gravel road, Jaebeom made his way to one of the lone trees near the empty highway that snaked around their town. Jaebeom would spend hours sitting up on the tree looking for vehicles that would speed past their community. Flaxcombe was the type of town you wouldn’t find on the map at a glance. Or look for it in the first place. Even in person, if you drove past it, if you didn’t pay attention, with a blink of an eye you could had easily missed it.

Jaebeom thought that Flaxcombe was a lonely existence. Even pitiful.

Lost in thought of his apathy for an inconsequential prairie town, a sudden blast in the distance startled the teen to miss a branch and slid down the trunk.

Wincing Jaebeom tried to grip his left hand covered in several large splinters but pulled back when he found the other hand similarly littered with wooden pieces. Jaebeom’s first instinct was of course to say fuck loudly.

“Are you alright?”

Jaebeom alarmed for the second time in such a short moment, said fuck loudly once again, and then looked up towards the sudden, intrusive voice.

As his luck goes, it was of course the current bane of his existence.

It had been a week since he had last seen the other boy. Jaebeom had promised himself that he would keep any thoughts of the boy locked away. But at that moment it felt as if Jaebeom was held at gunpoint by the way he held a disbelieved gaze at the other teen. 

The muddied, bruised boy peered from behind the tree. His head cocked. He began to shuffle around restlessly.

“It’s you!”

“It’s me,” he simply replied back. His hands started to fidget against the tree he was hiding behind. A light scratching sound that reminded Jaebeom of the cats that wandered into his parent's garden and scratched at his mother’s weaved mats. 

Jaebeom finally took a good look at the other boy. He didn't look any shorter than him, just a bit scrawnier. The scratches across the face had seemed to not have healed but multiplied compared to the other day. Deep purple bruises blossomed from the side of his face. His lip was cut, and blood was smeared around his nose. Jaebeom didn’t realize he was staring until the other boy repeated himself.

“Are you alright?”

“Oh, uh, kinda. I guess.”

“It must hurt a lot if you don’t even know if you’re in pain.” The comment felt like a splash of cold water. For a kid, well uh, a boy. Or teen. Whatever. He looked younger than Jaebum so surely he didn’t need to use a condescending tone like that toward someone who was older. Jaebeom didn’t know what to say as he was still digesting the fact that it was easily the the most he had ever said to him. 

And, well yeah, the splinters hurt like hell. But Jaebeom didn’t dare to make a fuss when the other boy looked like he was ran over by a rusty train, multiple times. And yet he was standing there, as if nothing was wrong. Well besides that he was incessantly fidgety.

“It doesn’t hurt that much,” murmured Jaebeom, he felt guilty to even mention his measly splinters. With a cough Jaebeom tried to change the subject, ‘I’m just more surprised by the oil rigs.”

“Oil rigs?”

“Yeah those pumps over there. They made this loud blast. They make it so often you’d think I’ll be used to them now. ” Jaebeom tried to joke, his laughter faded away when the other boy merely looked back at him with blinking eyes.

“It wasn't the pumps that made that sound.”

“Then what did?”

The other boy didn't reply. Instead he came down to Jaebeom’s eye level. Crouched down as he looked at his left hand. He still kept his distance. His nose began to scrunch up. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Jaebeom held his tongue. At this angle he could see how marred the other boy’s skin was, “it’s okay. I can get them out myself.”

It was sudden how the other boy moved, but he pulled Jaebeom’s hands and settled them in the his lap. He pinched out the first splinter even before Jaebeom react.

“Hey- ouch. What the hell man.” The boy raised his head. Jaebeom was startled at how close they were sitting in front of each other. His eyes were dark, and held Jaebeom’s gaze unwaveringly. Strong. If Jaebeom had met him in any other circumstances, he knew the boy looked like someone who can fight his own brawls. Strong willed. Someone you can rely on. But as quickly as their eyes met, his demeanor washed away as quickly as a summer storm. The boy tucked his chin down. 

“Thanks for the other day,” he mumbled. 

The round of the boy’s cheeks puffed up, Jaebeom watched idly. If it had been Youngjae he would had pinched it endearingly. But he wasn't. So Jaebum replied back in an equally quiet murmur, “It was really nothing.’

They fell into an awkward silence. Jaebeom grimacing every few seconds when the boy pinched the wooden pieces out. 

Jaebeom watched the other as he concentrated on his knuckles. It felt nice to sitting here. Albeit on the dirty ground. But it was with someone else.

Jaebeom didn't realize how lonely he was until now.

After what had to be several long minutes the other boy glanced up and averted his eyes away when he realized Jaebeom was watching him.

Suddenly the other boy brought Jaebeom’s hand to his mouth. 

What a startingly pouty lips, Jaebeom mind wandered, as he watched his fingers alarmingly close to the other boy’s mouth.

A pink tongue peeked out and lightly licked the wounds on Jaebeom’s fingers. Jaebeom pulled back, “Hey, whoa, the fuck are you doing?”

The boy had a shockingly strong grip. He held Jaebeom’s hand tightly near to his mouth, he sighed as though Jaebeom was a petulant toddler. He began explaining as if he had repeated himself countless times before. Jaebeom was highly conscious of how the other’s lips brushed against his knuckles with ever syllable, “It'll help your wounds.”

It was weird how the other boy was able to switch between two personalities. It was unsettling. Jaebeom stayed quiet, but grimaced. Taking his quiet scowling as permission the other boy took it as a cue that he could continue his ministrations.

His fingers felt better. But his stomach started to warm again. It was different from his usual onset of stomach aches but it still made Jaebeom uncomfortable.

“I'm done.”

“Thanks...” Jaebeom withdraw his hand and felt his fingers. Whatever the other boy did, his fingers felt much better. The pain was nonexistent really. If there had been any signs of the mishap it would just be Jaebeom’s croaking voice after his unnecessarily loud swearing. 

The boys fell into a thick and heavy silence. A truck on the highway whisked past. The oils rigs rhythmically creaked from afar. If Jaebeom concentrated he could hear a tractor rolling by in the distance. Jaebeom stole a quick glance at the boy in front of him, still sitting too close. He was staring back. He was staring at Jaebeom but he had a glassy look in his eyes, a look that said he wasn’t here in the moment. He chewed on his bottom lip in a way that surely would open the cut on his lip at any moment. 

As if he could stop the guy from hurting himself, Jaebeom started to rambled, “Hey, uh- Thanks by the way. For sucking me off. I mean, we’re cool now, yeah? An eye for an eye. I never caught your name. I’m Jaebeom by the way or you would call me JB, that works too.” And sure enough the boy stopped chewing his bottom lip in trade of a look of slight amusement, maybe even patronising. Jaebeom would had felt offended in any other situation but the boy looked better like that rather than drowning in his own world.

“I’m Junior. It’s nice to meet you Jaebeom,” What a funny smile Junior had, Jaebeom thought, he smiled as if he was restraining himself. His puffy cheeks were back and wrinkles formed around his squinting eyes as if they were like the whiskers of the strays that slept in his father's cabbage patch on lazy afternoons. He was actually pretty cute, if you looked past his purple bruises, muddied locks of hair, and sharp tongue. 

He looked controllably happy. He looked happy despite himself.

What did Mrs. Bhuwakul say again? Oh right, at the expense of himself. 

“I guess I’ll see you around?” 

The other boy merely shrugged. He got up without brushing off the dirt off his rumpled trousers. And like their first meeting he dashed off into the fields without a single glance back. He looked like he ran away as if he stole something. Jaebeom supposed he kind of did. Like his peace of mind. Or whatever the basis was for the unusual friendship they were forming. 

Jaebeom watched the waving golden wheat searching as if he could catch another glimpse of Junior. The breeze started to chill Jaebeom reminding him of the ending summer. 

What a weird kid Jaebeom thought. He stuffed his hand deep into shorts, not noticing at all the complete absence of pain in his fingers.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not very good at writing so the next installment might take a while. That and I have a bunch of wips that I am also writing at the same time because I'm not a loyal hoe. 
> 
> Thank you so much for finishing the chapter!


End file.
